Not That I Care
by Fiaba
Summary: Just because she clouted Arthur over the head for saying he'd rather marry a goat than her when they were young does not mean she's ever thought about marrying him. Arthur/Morgana


**Story Notes: Just a fluffy, squabbly, non-angsty piece. ^.^ Arthur/Morgana. **

**_Merlin _is (still) owned by the Beeb.**

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Morgana is nineteen and wondering whether she'll ever be in love. It's the first time this has really bothered her, because she absolutely definitely has _not _been anywhere near to in love before. Up until this point, she's only thought of members of the male species as rather immature and certainly not worth her affections. No, despite the efforts of all the silly boys who have tried to charm her and paw at her with grubby hands, none have ever made her genuinely consider love.

That time she cried all night because she caught Arthur kissing Elaine the visiting Lord's daughter in the stables does _not _count, because she was only twelve. _And _she most certainly wasn't in love with Arthur. In fact, she was really only crying because it meant she lost the bet about who could make someone kiss them first. Clearly not because she had been wishing Arthur's first kiss would be with her, and obviously not because she was jealous of Elaine the No-Brain.

And just because she clouted Arthur over the head and wouldn't speak to him for a week when he said he'd rather marry a one-eyed goat than her after his friend suggested it did _not _mean she'd ever thought about marrying him. He could go and marry his stupid goat for all she cared. She clouted him because she was only fourteen, and fourteen year old girls are very good at strops.

Although perhaps _sixteen _year old girls are good at strops too, because she had admittedly thrown the entire contents of Arthur's wardrobe out the window _and _torn up his best cloak after he'd refused to take her to King Elwyn's feast himself and then gone on to put every other young man off asking her by telling them she had a highly contagious growth in an unmentionable place. But she'd only been so upset because she hadn't had anyone to go to the feast with, not because she cared that Arthur didn't want to go with her.

Well, truthfully there'd been that time last year when she felt butterflies after Arthur said she'd looked "very pretty" and danced with her at the winter banquet. Of course, he'd spoilt it in his usual way by adding "compared to your usual grumpy horse-face". The slap she'd given him had, she felt, been utterly justified. Tipping water in his lap and telling all the ladies he'd had an "accident" later that night might have been a tiny bit much, especially considering he'd said what he said with a teasing smile and kissed her cheek afterwards. Needless to say, there were no kisses for her after her payback. Not that she minded.

But all those times Arthur had successfully provoked her, infuriated her and made her cry were just because he was an insufferable prat and not because she cared what he thought about her. A _saint _would be infuriated by Arthur Pendragon. Morgana had certainly never fallen for him in the slightest.

No, Arthur was not the reason for her current pondering. That particular honour went to a certain (disgusting) Sir Brinan. She'd met him at the banquet Uther held back in spring. He had asked her to dance, and she'd said yes. It was definitely because she wanted to dance with him though, and not because Arthur was already twirling about with some red-haired girl from Bayard's kingdom.

Sir Brinan had been so good-looking... He was the same age as her, and a bit _fragile_-looking_, _but could deny those lovely green eyes and charming words? _Arthur _had never compared her beauty to – and she quotes - "all the stars in the sky". All right, so she'd thought it was a fairly cringeworthy thing to say, but still. He'd been sweet enough for her not to mind too much, and it made a nice change from being called a grumpy horse-face.

Actually, now she thinks about it, Sir Brinan's lines were all a bit unimpressive. It was still worth it, though, because seeing Arthur's sour expression whenever Sir Brinan was with her really did make up for his shortcomings. _Not_ that she really cares what Arthur thinks.

Sir Brinan is still in Camelot now, actually, and he'd spent the past weeks coming to the castle to see Morgana. It's summer now, and earlier that morning, he encountered her in a quiet corridor and promptly declared that he loved her. Morgana had been taken aback, but she'd been saved – if she can call it that - from having to try and respond by him pressing his mouth to hers none too gently. Morgana's brow had creased in alarm, and she couldn't help but grimace against his mouth.

It hadn't been a very nice kiss at all, and Morgana wanted to end it quite rapidly, but then with his typical timing, Arthur emerged from his chambers – _yes _it was coincidence that they happened to be right outside his door – and so she had to pretend to like being kissed by cold and unskilful lips. She couldn't give Arthur the pleasure of seeing that really, she had about as much passion for Sir Brinan as she did for his horse.

So she'd kissed the silly boy back temporarily, and she was rewarded with a _for God's sake, Morgana!_ from Arthur, as well as a peek at his angry expression. She liked to imagine she saw a good deal of jealousy on his face too, because even though _she _was certainly never jealous when he had a new little maid hanging off his arm_, _it filled her with glee to know that _he _was jealous to see her falling for a dashing young man.

She wasn't falling for a dashing young man, though, but he didn't have to know that. He also didn't have to know that as soon as he was out of earshot, Morgana had shoved Sir Brinan off her, wiped her mouth and glared at him. Shortly after that, she'd told him she'd had enough of his slimy kisses to last her a lifetime and ordered him to leave. It was a bit rude, granted, but his response was _not _justified. It turned out that he wasn't such a nice boy after all, and Morgana discovered his rather volatile temper when he swore at her and struck her cheek hard.

She didn't cry in front of him and smartly kneed him in the groin, and he staggered away from her, spewing out a string of foul curses. She stormed through the first door she found which was, of course, Arthur's, and she flung herself on his bed angrily. _Then _she cried, but it was only because she was shocked, and it didn't last long. Once she'd stopped, she spent a while lying on Arthur's bed (she's sure it's more comfortable than hers), wryly thinking that for once in her life her upset wasn't Arthur's fault. She's still there when he returns a short while later, and he doesn't notice her at first.

He's about to fling his jacket onto his bed when he suddenly realises Morgana is already on it. He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Morgana." He says. "I'm sure my father was kind enough to provide you with your _own _rooms when you got here." Morgana only harrumphs at him in response.

"What? Where's Brainless Brinan, then?" Arthur says grumpily, slinging his jacket over a chair instead and turning around to face her. Only then did he get a proper look at her, and he stopped suddenly.

"What happened to your face?" He asks suspiciously.

"Someone hit me. What happened to yours?" She replies.

"Very funny. _Who _hit you?" He clearly isn't going to let it go, as he bends in to inspect the red patch on her cheek. She sighs and rolls off his bed, wandering over to the window.

"Nobody important."

He sighs in exasperation, and then looks sharply at her. "It wasn't _him, _was it?"

"Who's him?" She says, stalling.

"_Brinan, _Morgana." He stands in front of her so she can't stare out of his window and is forced to look at him. She shrugs one shoulder.

"I can take care of myself."

"It was him! That little piece of-"Arthur tilts Morgana's chin to the side so he can stare in outrage at her red cheek. He runs a finger over it experimentally.

"_Ow, _Arthur." She says irritably, jerking her head out of his grasp. "Leave me alone." He doesn't pay her any attention, of course, but she wasn't expecting him to.

"See, this is what happens when you run around with half-witted idiots! I knew I shouldn't have let you see him." Arthur paces up and down crossly, and Morgana has to interject.

"Excuse me? _Let _me? As if I'd ever need your permission to do anything, Arthur Pendragon!" He doesn't seem to be paying her any attention though, and he continues to pace.

"... I mean, I should've kicked him out of the castle when I saw him trying to _eat _your face. And while we're discussing it, did you really have to do it _outside my chambers_?"

Morgana doesn't reply to that one, because she really can't defend that kiss. "Yes, well, if it's any consolation, it was a terrible kiss anyway." She eventually says grumpily, folding her arms.

He stops pacing long enough to laugh gleefully, and she wishes she hadn't said it now. He'd never let it go.

"Oh really?" He says, looking much more cheerful. "That, my dear Morgana, is because Sir Brinan is a prize _oaf_."

"Takes one to know one." She retorts snippily.

"Please. _I _don't kiss like a starving octopus."

"No, more like a drooling puppy, I imagine." She smiles triumphantly at Arthur's offended expression.

"Are you just trying to get me to prove it?" Arthur says, his offence turning to smugness.

Morgana sputters in irritation. "What? No!" _But it would be nice if you did. "_You're the most obnoxious creature in Camelot!"

"You know, you can always just ask if you want me to kiss you." Arthur says in that intolerably arrogant voice. She wants to hit him, but for some reason, her eyes are unintentionally drawn to his lips. He doesn't miss it, and he laughs delightedly.

Morgana tries to think of something to say which will wipe that smirk off his face, but before she can, he swaggers up to her, lowers his head and kisses her. The sensible thing, she supposes, would be to push him off to avoid inflating his giant ego even more. Unfortunately, what she actually does is kiss him back, her arms winding around his neck to pull him even closer. One of his hands tangles into her dark hair and the other lingers on her side, touching her just enough for her to feel its warmth.

She hates to admit it, but it's a very good kiss.

Really quite an excellent kiss, and she assumes he thinks so too, because he doesn't seem to want to let go.

Not that she cares what he thinks.

Much.

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_Fin_

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_**Hope you enjoyed. Arthur will demonstrate his kissing skills to reviewers, you know. ;)**_


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